Robert Burns Quotes

The voice of Nature loudly cries, And many a message from the skies, That something in us never dies.

Ah, Tam! Ah! Tam! Thou'll get thy fairin! In hell they'll roast you like a herrin!

The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. For a' that an a' that.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O: Her prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses, O.

Then gently scan your brother
man,
still gentler sister woman, though they may gang
a kennin wrang, to step aside is human

But pleasure are like poppies spread, you sieze the flower, its bloom is spread

My Heart's In The Highlands

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Chorus.-My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the mountains, high-cover'd with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green vallies below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, &c.

But yet, O Lord! confess I must,
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust:
An' sometimes too in warldly trust,
Vile self gets in;
But Thou remembers we are dust,
Defil'd wi' sin.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An 'twerna for the lasses, O.

The landlord's laugh was ready chorus.

A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart; But it’s innocence and modesty That polishes the dart.

Some wee short hours ayont the twal.

Critics! Appalled I ventured on the name.
Those cutthroat bandits in the paths of fame.

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do or die!

The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border.